


Whispers in the Penumbra

by dustoftheancients, holocroning



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Diab, Extreme Climate, F/M, Haunted By Force Ghosts, Jedi!Rey, Kylo is a War Criminal, Leia Organa Deserves Better, Prisoner!Kylo, Prisoner!Rey, Reluctant Allies for the Sake of Survival, Sith!kylo, alternating pov, the war is over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustoftheancients/pseuds/dustoftheancients, https://archiveofourown.org/users/holocroning/pseuds/holocroning
Summary: The war has ended, and Kylo Ren has been sentenced to rot in the Prism for the rest of his days.Rey is sentenced to keep guard.





	1. Chapter 1

When the blast doors opened and the girl stepped into the General’s private quarters, Leia Organa couldn’t help being slightly taken aback. Furrowing her brow, she looked the still-young Jedi up and down. It’d been four years since they’d first met and Rey’s physical appearance hadn’t changed much at all, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t aged. There was a dullness to her eyes that hadn’t been there before—a newfound stiffness in her posture, and a hardness to the way she pressed her mouth into a thin, straight line.

Rey was a different person than she’d been four years ago. It was apparent now as she crossed the room, her gait graceful and featherlight but cautious all the same. The General didn’t need to be Force-sensitive to know that the girl was on-edge, as if she might encounter blasterfire or thermal detonators with any given step. Such was the way of war. The New Republic had claimed a victory, but it wasn’t the first time Leia Organa had been told as much. She knew better. In war there were no winners or losers. There was only the living and the dead.

“Sit,” General Organa waved to the young Jedi. Rey took a seat on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. Her clothing was humble, much like Luke’s had been. She wore a sand-colored tunic, knee-high leather boots and a dark brown rain-soaked cloak. Leia glanced through the viewport to her right, at the blinking lights of Hanna City. It was wet season on Chandrila.

“You wanted to speak with me,” Rey replied, her voice clipped.

“I did. Would you like a drink?” General Organa’s gaze shifted to the droid in the corner. Without waiting for an answer she said, “Droid. The Corellian whiskey, please.” 

The LeisureMech obliged, fetching two glasses.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink,” Rey protested.

The General couldn’t help the way the corner of her mouth tugged upwards at that. Even Luke himself had thought Jedi conventions outdated and yet here  _ she _ was, clinging to the only truth she’d ever known. Leia supposed the girl didn’t have anything else.  _ Things are better this way _ , she thought before saying, “Are you sure? Corellian whiskey was always Han’s favorite.”

Leia didn’t miss the spark that flashed in Rey’s eyes.

“So the sentencing is done, then,” Rey said. Her voice was quiet. 

Leia froze, hand encircling the glass that the LeisureMech passed her. Then she nodded and took a sip. Swallowing, she said, “It’s done.”

Rey shifted her attention to the viewport, her throat bobbing strangely. “When is the execution?”

“There won’t be one,” the General replied.

The Jedi’s attention snapped back to her. “What?”

“The verdict will be announced later this evening. Kylo Ren will not be executed. The Grand Jury thought that too fair a punishment, for such a prominent war criminal.” Leia took another sip of her whiskey, savoring the way it burned her throat as though it were confirmation that she was real, that all of this was real. She’d spent so many nights onboard the Falcon with Han, exchanging stories over bottles just like this one. Exchanging stories and...well, other things. Her chest tightened. The General could hardly believe it’d been four years since his death. Their son had died with him, and she did not wish him back. She only wished it hadn’t taken her so long to realize the truth of what he was.

Rey’s face, previously so composed, turned incredulous. “How can you keep him alive?”

Leia set her glass down on the endtable with a  _ thud _ . The General hadn’t ascended to her rank by being dense. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “Don’t make the mistake of thinking that I have any sort of personal investment in his future. This decision was the Grand Jury’s, and theirs alone.”

“He’s too dangerous to be kept alive,” Rey said quietly, hands balling into fists in her lap. 

_ Such anger _ , Leia thought. In a way, she envied Rey for her youthful emotions. It’d been years since the General had felt any sort of passion, be it love or hatred. That’s what a lifetime of war did to you: it hollowed you out, removing the self bit by bit until there was nothing left but duty.

“He won’t be where they’re sending him,” Leia replied after a moment, clearing her throat. Rey’s gaze flickered to hers, laced with something like trepidation and rather than look her in the eye, Leia decided to worry at the ring on her finger.

“And where’s that?” Rey asked.

“Have you heard of a place called the Prism?” Leia replied.

“No,” Rey answered.

“You wouldn’t have. It was an old Jedi prison located in Wild Space, hidden in the mass shadow of Diab’s sixth moon. Reserved for the Old Republic’s greatest enemies. It’s been empty for years,” the General said. “It’s two days’ time—”

“They’re sending him to prison,” Rey interjected, tone heated and finally, the General looked up at her. “After everything he’s done, he gets the luxury of a prison sentence.”

“He will rot in his misery until he dies. That is what the Grand Jury has decided,” Leia said flatly. She was in no mood to argue with a woman some forty years her junior, Jedi or not.

Rey shot up from her seat, mouth agape though there was something like fear in her expression, too. “General, he’s a  _ Sith _ .”

“Yes, I’m aware,” the General replied.

“Have they forgotten what he’s  _ done _ ? He destroyed the Hosnian System, nearly eradicated the Resistance at Crait and brought the Galaxy to its knees. We would’ve  _ lost _ if it weren’t for the good will of your allies in the Unknown Regions. He killed  _ Han _ for Force’s sake,” Rey said through gritted teeth.

The General noted how Rey’s Force signature turned bitter, the sour energy lapping at her own like a poison. Luke had been right to be wary of training the girl, though she couldn’t help but wonder if the Galaxy would’ve been better off if he had.  _ Luke _ . A sad smile crossed the General’s lips as she recalled her final memory with her brother, even if he hadn’t really been there. Still, it was his sacrifice that’d allowed them to escape the old abandoned mines on that forgotten planet, and knowing he’d left this world by his own design brought her some semblance of peace.

A feeling in her bones told her it wouldn’t be long before she followed. She didn’t think she could take much more of it—any of it.  _ Yes you can _ , Holdo had told her, but her colleague had been wrong. Even Admiral Holdo, with all of her foresight and wisdom, could not have prepared her for this.

For a decade the General had hoped,  _ begged _ for her son’s return, but he was gone now. There was nothing left but a monster who wore Ben Solo’s face, smirking at her with those hollow amber eyes. Some selfish part of her was glad his eyes were different now. That made it easier to look at him, to testify against him while he stood chained and on trial before the Galaxy.

“I know,” Leia said quietly and Rey’s face softened.

“I’m sorry.” Rey’s words were quick, her gaze sinking to the floor.

Leia merely waved a hand. She was used to it. “No matter.”

“Where is he now?” Rey asked, voice softening as she returned to her seat.

The General grimaced. She was thankful the Force-suppressing collar they’d leadened him with muted his Force presence, but she could see him in her mind’s eye just the same. “They’re holding him at the Courts of Justice Building while he awaits transport to the Prism.”

Leia could feel the girl’s energy roiling like one of Diab’s electrical storms, though a non-Force user wouldn’t have guessed it by her carefully composed posture. The General frowned. She detected a twinge of fear, but more than that there was...anger. Resentment. Regret.  _ Odd _ , Leia thought. She had yet to tell Rey the other half of the Jury’s decision.

“When?”

“There is an additional stipulation to the sentencing, Rey. The Prism cannot function on its own. At present, the only inhabitants are a skeleton crew of droids left over from the days of the Old Republic. They’ll likely need to be replaced. But the place has history. Ghosts, if you understand me. The Grand Jury decided upon a lifelong prison sentence, under the condition that a Jedi will be sent to keep watch over the prison.” Leia couldn’t keep her voice from cracking as she said the last bit.

Rey’s face paled and Leia knew she understood. “Me.”

Leia nodded. Her fingers tightened around her glass.

“I won’t.” Rey didn’t bother masking her apparent betrayal. Her features contorted, eyes turning red and glassy. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard: a transparent attempt to conceal her hurt.

“Rey,” Leia whispered, setting her glass down to reach for the Jedi’s hand. Rey jerked her hand away.

“No,” Rey reiterated.

“Believe me when I say this is the last thing I could want for you,” Leia replied with great effort, and it was true. She would’ve gone herself if it were practical, but she’d chosen to not be trained in the Force and the fact of the matter was that she was not long for this world.

Rey’s expression turned pleading, and tears brimmed her eyes. “I can’t,” she whispered.

“Rey,” Leia repeated, hanging her head. “It’s not a request. It’s an order. I would change it if I could, but it’s the Grand Jury’s decision. To deny them would be to undermine the government we’ve fought so hard to build.”

No longer able to dam her tears, Rey said, “It’s a prison sentence for me too.”

If Leia Organa’s heart had been broken before, it was shattered now. The decision was terribly unfair. Rey had given her young life to the war—something Leia was all too familiar with and wouldn’t have wished on anyone. The Jedi deserved so much more than to be locked up with a monster, suffering and withering into old age, the memory of her sacrifice fading into the vacuum of time and space. Fate was cruel, though. Leia knew that better than anyone.

“I am truly sorry,” Leia murmured, successfully capturing Rey’s hand between hers. “The Galaxy has already asked so much of you, I know. But you’re the only one who can do this, Rey. You’re the only one left.”

Rey’s face crumpled, but her energy seemed to stabilize—if only because she was bludgeoning her emotions into submission.  _ Unlike a Jedi _ , Leia caught herself thinking before she pushed the thought away. It was replaced by a twinge of guilt. If nothing else, Rey’s coming solitude would provide opportunity for studying and the improvement of technique in a safe, quarantined environment. She had no teacher, no master after all.

“I wish he was dead,” Rey said finally. Her tone was quiet and stony, but laced with a resolve that hadn’t been there before.

Leia squeezed Rey’s hand before closing her eyes and nodding.


	2. Chapter 2

Rey’s first glimpse of Kylo Ren was as two pairs of Resistance soldiers – or New Republic soldiers, now – escorted him to the shuttle. From where she stood under the awning of the landing pad he was little more than a shadow across the way, looming over the New Republic guards who flanked him. The shuttle had been prepped to transport Kylo Ren specifically, a one way ticket to the prison where he would spend the rest of his miserable life.

Where they would both spend it. Rey’s hands clenched so tightly they shook. Hanna City was oddly quiet, like it was holding its breath. Aside from the occasional honk of a speeder or the misplaced chirping of flit-wrens, the only sound was the  _ pitter patter _ of rain on the tarp above Rey’s head. It had not stopped raining for two days, which somehow made it even worse. She didn’t know when she would get another glimpse of a sun.

It was easy to blame him for everything. For the war, and the Force, and dragging her into exile with him. And he was responsible, to a point. It was he who had taken up the mantle of Supreme Leader, even after declaring that he wanted to throw it all away. All of this was his fault; if he had only taken up her offer, if he had only abandoned his notions of power and order rather than pursuing the ancient orthodoxy of the once-extinct Sith, perhaps not everyone in the Galaxy would be so eager to throw them both away.

She felt like she could spit acid. Leia had tried to soften the blow, tried to make it out that she would be doing the galaxy a true service, but Rey could see little point in guarding someone who should have just been executed. It didn’t feel like she was doing a service, it felt like – like she was being shoved in a corner. Put away. An unpleasant mix of anxiety, anger, and hurt swirled in her gut the more she dwelled on it. She was erupting with emotions and she did not seem to be able to control any of them.

Jedi were supposed to be above such things.

But it was  _ hard _ , when she was being abandoned in some unknown corner of dark space, doomed to guard the man—if you could call him that—who had done so much harm. She couldn’t quite find the strength to swallow, after she thought the word.

Abandoned.

The Galaxy didn’t want her, either. She could sense the uneasiness in the politicians, the sentinels, even the cityfolk and their children whenever she was nearby. She saw it in their eyes. She saw  _ him _ there, too, in those scrutinizing stares that had not forgotten a boy called Ben Solo, playing in the alleys of Hanna City and hanging off Leia Organa’s hem.

The awning shielded the entire landing pad from the rain, but the wetness to the air made it almost feel as if they were being rained on, anyway. Leia trailed behind the guards as they filed out onto the landing pad, seemingly unaffected by the humidity and looking as if she was leading the precession rather than taking up the tail end of it. Rey didn’t move from where she stood by the shuttle’s ramp. If she did, she wasn’t entirely sure that she wouldn’t try to make a run for it.

Without a word, the guards led Kylo Ren towards the ramp. His eyes tracked her, though. They dared her. She could feel the challenge of his gaze, the demand that she  _ look _ at him.

Fighting the stutter in her chest, Rey held her chin up and kept her gaze fixed solely on Leia. The General’s expression was all business. She was merely a military leader escorting a high-profile prisoner to their sentencing.

Rey tried not to feel betrayed by that.

Jaw clenched, Rey kept her attention trained on the General as the guards led Kylo Ren past. There was a deep-set weariness in Leia’s expression, only noticeable when she drew near to Rey. For a moment, her attention flickered to her son being led up the ramp, but then he was gone and the weight of his eyes with it. Rey deflated infinitesimally and Leia shifted her attention back to her.

“You know this wasn’t my plan.” The words were formal, but the General’s touch on her arm was gentle. She said nothing else, for there seemed little either of them could say.

Anger and hurt bubbled up in Rey’s throat and trapped her words. All she could manage to do was give a stiff nod.

Leia let her arm drop.

Tears stung Rey’s eyes, but she refused to give in to them. Not here, in front of the General, in front of the New Republic. She would not appear weak.

Even still, her hands still shook like a leaf.

“May the Force be with you,” the General offered. That, too, sounded formal and distant.

Rey nodded. Then she turned and marched up the shuttle’s ramp before she lost her nerve. The final  _ click-hiss  _ of the ramp sealing shut behind her echoed in her ears.

 

* * *

 

The Prism was not at all what Rey expected it to be. It was worse.

Tucked away in the mass shadow of Dian’s sixth moon like some sort of hidden nightmare, the prison was like nothing she had ever seen before. A thousand spires rose in both directions, dark needles that would have appeared to be as dark as space if not for the way in which it reflected the light. From afar, it almost looked like a shard of obsidian. As the ship steadily grew closer, Rey realized that it was the size of a small city. A dead, black city.

That was where she was sentenced. Forever.

Her fingers dug into the back of the pilot’s seat. The copilot cast her a sideways glance, and for a moment she wondered if the rest of them fully understood what they’d condemned her to. If they even could.

“Beginning landing sequence,” the pilot announced.

“Captain, we’ve got some interference on the sensors,” the copilot reported, but the pilot just nodded.

“It’s the moon’s electrical storms. We’re doing this old-school until we’re clear of the field. Makes for one hell of a security system.”

Rey pressed her lips together and left the cockpit without a word. Neither of the pilots paid her any mind.

Kylo was restrained at the back of the shuttle, wrists shackled together and a heavy, Force-dampening collar fitted around his neck. No one had mentioned where they had acquired such a collar, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there were more. She had not thought it possible to deafen someone to the Force against their will before he had been taken into custody, and the knowledge that it could happen made her uneasy.

_ Perhaps I should consider myself lucky, they could’ve slapped one of those on me _ . The thought was angry and bitter and didn’t sound like something a Jedi would think at all. She couldn’t seem to rid herself of it.

His eyes had been closed as if he was meditating, his breathing deep and even, but the way he snapped to attention as soon as she drew near told her that had just been an act. He fixed her with his stare, practically demanding that she say something, although Force only knew what he wanted her to say. She could think of nothing that he would want to hear. Only curses and insults sat on her tongue.

She rested her hand on the hilt of her lightsaber. There was a slight shift underneath her feet as the shuttle began the landing process.

“We’re landing.”

He blinked, then straightened. She still remembered when his eyes had been dark, when they had not shone with that twisted, yellow glint. There had been a time when she had seen something in that gaze. Perhaps not something…good, but  _ something _ . The potential to be good. Now, it just reminded her of all that he had done. A chill crept down her spine.

“It’s good to see you, Rey,” he said. It was difficult to discern his tone. She thought maybe he was mocking her.

Tilting her chin up, she let herself say exactly what she thought. “If only it was your execution.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Another rumble shook the shuttle. Rey’s comlink flashed.

“We’ve landed, master Jedi.”

“Thank you.” She had learned that it was too difficult to explain that she wasn’t a  _ master _ Jedi to every single person she came across. It was simply how most people referred to the Jedi. But the thought still made her squirm, made her feel like she was an imposter trying to fill someone else’s shoes.

Master Luke’s shoes.

Rey glanced over to find Kylo’s amber gaze as fixed on her as ever. She squared her shoulders and flexed her fingers which still rested against her saber.

The New Republic soldiers guarding him unlatched the restraints binding him to the seat, though they left his durasteel shackles and collar untouched. No fewer than two blasters were pointed at his face at any given time. By the expressions on their faces, it was more of an effort not to pull the trigger and just be done with it. Rey understood the sentiment.

Kylo didn’t struggle as much as she had been expecting, which perhaps wasn’t saying much. When he jerked his shoulder away from one of the soldiers and struggled against another who’d reached for his cuffs, it almost seemed to be more of a show, an obligatory resistance. His heart wasn’t in it, because if his heart had been Rey would have had to pull out her saber.

He was so very tall. She was reminded of it every time she stood in the same space as him, as if it was possible to even need the reminder. The paleness of his skin against the black of his hair and clothes made him appear nearly dead. How much worse he looked from that first time she had seen his face. He had been almost beautiful then, in his own way, if not terribly sullen. There had been color to his lips, and he had not had such dark crescents under his eyes.

He had not had those eyes.

Sith eyes.

“Don’t tempt me to use this,” she warned, tightening her grip on her weapon.

Kylo’s gaze slid down to the lightsaber and then back to her. He didn’t look cowed in the slightest, but he did still. “Of course not,  _ master Jedi _ .”

Rey ground her teeth. She would not rise to his bait. She would not.

The soldiers followed her lead as she descended the shuttle’s ramp. The hangar in which they had landed was largely empty, except for a few dozen crates nestled in the far corner. She wondered if there had been a time when the prison had needed such an echoing space, if the flow of prisoners had ever been that significant. An observation deck loomed over it all, as dark and empty as the rest. She tried to imagine what it would have been like to see the outline of a true Jedi master watching from that window. It was difficult to picture what an Old Republic Jedi would look like. They were all long gone. 

There were only two beings waiting to meet them at the bottom of the ramp, and one of them was a droid. The cool, mildewed air around them was heavy with words unspoken. Rey’s spirits sank just a little further at the human’s expression. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. 

So did she.

The man didn’t hold out his hand. He couldn’t seem to decide if he wanted to glare at her or Kylo Ren more. There was the familiar flicker of fear in his eyes, that same look everyone got when they saw Kylo, but it was quickly buried under an overwhelming sense of hatred. That was common, too.

Kylo returned the glare.

“Hello,” the man offered Rey with a sniff, finally giving her his complete attention. He shoved his hands in his pockets, “I’m Tero Hal, the lucky engineer who got saddled with making sure this hellhole could still pump oxygen. Also, that it wouldn’t kill you with any number of its  _ other _ charming, rustic deficiencies. So. You’re welcome.” He gestured with his elbow. “This glowing hunk of junk is DeeEe-OhFour.”

DE-04 did not respond. Its humanoid limbs were stock still, its dark paint dull and covered in a visible film of dust. Rey supposed it was one of the droid guards Leia had told her about. It appeared to be some sort of combat droid, but she had never come across the exact model. It’d probably been out of production for decades.

A little put off by his attitude, Rey nodded. “I’m-”

“Yeah, you’re the Jedi master. And  _ he’s _ Kylo Ren. The cell has been prepared.” At this, Tero’s attention shifted back to Kylo with a scowl. His imprisonment was an exceedingly unpopular decision, it seemed. Not that she disagreed.

She clenched her jaw at being interrupted, but she ignored it in favor of at least attempting to be professional. “Then take us,” she commanded.

Tero nodded. “Yeah.”

Rey waited until the guards led Kylo past, falling into step just behind him as they followed the engineer out of the hangar. DE-04 stayed by the shuttle. It still had not moved an inch.

It was unnaturally quiet in the sleek, dark halls of the station. Sharp blue fluorescent lighting lined the walls, but it did little to stave away the feeling of darkness and shadow that crept up her neck. She found herself glancing behind her every dozen steps or so, as if she expected someone else to be there. Death seemed to permeate the walls, the ground, and she could not help but hear Leia’s words in her head.

_ The Prism had ghosts _ , she had said. Rey wondered how literal she had meant that.

“I got the power up and running at minimal capacity in this section of the station.” Up ahead, Tero’s words came out sharp and staccato. They echoed strangely. “But don’t go exploring unless you want to find yourself suddenly without air or heat. Unless,” he threw a quick glance Kylo’s way, “you decide you’ve had enough babysitting, I guess. I’ve sealed all the doors leading out of the powered zone anyway.”

Kylo’s posture stiffened. Even with his Force signature muted, Rey could tell that his irritation spiked at the engineer’s words. One of the guards pressed their gun closer into his side, apparently picking up on the same thing. Rey kept her eyes trained on him for a moment, making sure that he wasn’t about to do something stupid. He had always been unpredictable.

They changed corridors and suddenly they were on a catwalk. One side was connected to a wall, but the other dropped off into a thick darkness. The lighting along the wall did nothing to help illuminate any farther than the path in front of them. It was impossible to tell how high they were, or how big the room was. The unsettling echo of their steps grated against Rey’s eardrums, and for reasons unknown she was overcome by the sensation that they were being watched.

“This is one of the cell blocks,” Tero offered by way of explanation.

Rey stared out at the blackness. “How many cells are there?”

“Fifty, maybe. I dunno, but it’s a long way down.”

Kylo stared into the darkness, as well. Light glinted softly off the Force-dampening collar even half-hidden by his hair as it was, drawing her gaze. She could not help but wonder if he felt the same creeping uneasiness in this place as she did. Even with his connection to the Force largely deafened, could he feel the death in the walls? The echo in the darkness?

The engineer seemed to feel it. He jumped at every little sound, every little shift in the light. She understood even more why he would look so eager to leave.

But she was to be left there.

Anger reared up in her, fury at the institution she had fought to reestablish. She had given years of her life to helping bring the New Republic back. She was not conceited enough to suppose that they could not have done it without her, but she would have thought that they would not repay her loyalty with – this.

Abandonment. Imprisonment.

She took a deep, shuddering breath in an attempt to calm her nerves. Kylo turned his head, just a little. Rey’s grip on her lightsaber turned knuckle-white.

Tero led them off the catwalk and down another long, empty hallway. When they reached the end of that, the turned and had to input a code into a blast door before it opened. “These are the maximum security cells,” he explained. “There are only a few per block.”

Behind the blast door was one final corridor, this one shorter than the rest but no less stark. It opened up at the end, fanning out into a fairly large room. There were three cells total, one on each far end of the room, and a cell directly across from them. Only the cell across from them looked ready to hold a prisoner.

It was smaller than Rey had imagined, outfitted with nothing but a bench and a refresher. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all smooth, black durasteel. The door was as reinforced as the rest of the cell surely was, but it was made of transparisteel and afforded no privacy. Two more droids the same model as DE-04 flanked the cell, each holding a blaster rifle.

_ What an awful place to wallow out the rest of your life, _ she thought. She was glad it was awful.

Kylo turned to her with a smirking sort of haughtiness to his expression. “It seems the only difference in our cells is that yours is a little bigger.”

“Shut your mouth,” she snapped.

He didn’t say anything else.

They deposited Kylo in the cell without any preamble. He went willingly enough, although the scowl that cut across his face was enough to make the guards retreat several paces from the door as soon as it closed.

Kylo’s scowl only darkened as he watched the guards leave. His yellow eyes took in his surroundings briefly, but then they settled on Rey. He looked very much like he wanted to say something else, something worse than what he had already said.

She wished that the door had been made of durasteel instead. She wished she could not see him.

Tero cleared his throat. He kept his gaze fixed on Kylo as he said, “Are you ready for the grand tour? Because I’m sure as hell ready to get off this damned station.”

Rey would not let herself back down from Kylo’s stare. “Alright.”

His eyes followed her all the way out, like the heat of a lightsaber at her back.

Tero led her and the guards to the power generators and proceeded to explain the power functions to her like she was an idiot. Hackles raised, she informed him that she had, in fact, had a lot of experience with machines.

“Not with keeping an ancient prison running, you haven’t,” he snorted.

Rey pressed her lips into a line.

She was going to have to check the generators every day, just to make sure that everything was working. If she had any major problems, which he defined as impending asphyxiation or a sudden loss of gravity, she was supposed to jump in a ship and fly out of range of the moon’s electrical storms and send for help or figure it out herself.

“You don’t really have that many options if things go south,” he shrugged as if it had nothing to do with him. And it didn’t really, she supposed.

“I’m used to taking care of myself.” She put her hands on her hips.

He shrugged again. “Sure.”

Irritated, she glanced over at the droid stationed by the door. “How many droids are there? Where do you repair them?”

“Oh. Right. We repaired a few of them, but the majority of the droids here are scrap.” He took Rey and the guards to some sort of maintenance room close to the hangar. It was filled with rows and rows of deactivated guard droids the same as the rest. They looked like skeletons.

This could give her something to do, at least for a little while. She felt as if she was grasping at straws trying not to scream.

“Are they salvageable?”

Tero made a face. “A few of them might be. Droids aren’t exactly my area of expertise.”

One of the soldiers checked her chrono. “We’ve got to get going.”

Rey’s heart clenched. A part of her wanted to bolt for the shuttle, to run onboard and refuse to get off until they brought her back – just back. Somewhere with a sun.

She wanted to leave Kylo Ren to rot in that cell. She wanted to leave him to die.

Tero perked up at the soldier’s words. “Thank the Force. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Rey fixed him with a stare. It wasn’t his fault, she knew that. But it was easy to focus her ire on him when he was standing right there looking like his nightmare was about to be over and not caring that hers was just starting. He blinked, and she sensed a flicker of that same emotion she had felt when they first landed. His eyes flickered downward. She had not noticed that her hand had never left her saber; it was simply a reflex to keep her hand on her weapon while she knew Kylo was nearby. But she knew what it looked like.

She made them uneasy, too. Even with the mantle of Jedi. Maybe even because of that. It was just another bitter reminder of why she had been the one chosen to rot with Kylo Ren.

Trying to seem nonchalant about it, she let her hand drop from her weapon. “General Organa will want a report as soon as possible,” she said.

“I want a hot shower as soon as possible,” Tero grumbled, apparently not uneasy enough to not complain.

It took only a few minutes to get to the hangar from the droid maintenance room. The walls seemed to get darker as they went, the light more harsh against Rey’s eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest at the prospect of being alone in moments. She wished that one of her friends would have been the one to see her off, instead of people who cared nothing for her and she nothing for them. It made everything worse.

But perhaps it was better that it wasn’t Finn who had come. She didn’t think that she could keep a strong face if it had been Finn.

It was important, however, to keep a strong face in front of these people. Jedi were supposed to be serene; she had to appear strong.

She was entrusted with guarding the Galaxy’s biggest war criminal; the greatest enemy of the New Republic, and of peace. She was strong.

After briefly boarding the shuttle in order to grab the small bag containing a few changes of clothes and other essentials that she had packed, she returned down the ramp and watched as it shut behind her. A stone settled in her gut as the shuttle’s engines started up. Too soon, she was watching it fly away. She felt the lifeforces turn as small and distant as the ship itself, and before long she could no longer sense them. The shuttle turned into a brief blue string against the black emptiness before it, too, disappeared.

And then she was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

She was gone a long time.

Hours passed before Kylo heard her featherlight steps at the far end of the corridor. He spent them unmoving on the bench, staring at the floor with his cuffed hands resting in his lap and his head leaned back against the wall. The small, confined cell was cold and silent, much like he’d imagine a tomb to be—which it  _ was _ , more or less. This was how he would live out his days.

How she’d live out hers, too.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Kylo’s lips. Their relationship had always been poetic, if nothing else. Even she had to think so, naive as she was.

How she was  _ still _ so naive, Kylo didn’t know. An entire war had passed between them, and now this new betrayal by the only allies she had left, yet she still clung to the short-sighted, antiquated ideals of the Old Jedi Order. They’d failed Skywalker, and they’d fail her too if she didn’t let them go. They had no place here in the ruins of the Prism, which was if nothing else a testament to the failure and hypocrisy of their ways.

Through the transparisteel outer wall of his cell he heard a hinge creak from somewhere down the hall, followed by the clicking of a lock. So she was settling into her new home, then. That meant the engineer had left, and that they were alone—more or less. Even with the Force-dampening collar sitting like a lead weight around his neck Kylo knew better than to trust the quiet emptiness of the prison. Atrocities had happened here, and atrocities left scars. Kylo knew that well.

“Master Jedi,” he called into the dimness. The cell walls were thick, but he knew she could hear him. Whether she admitted it to herself or not, she was probably waiting for him to address her, just like she’d waited for those forbidden moments when their bond would open and allow for quiet, intimate conversations across the vastness of time and space. The girl had never done well with loneliness. A beat passed in silence, allowing the cursed moniker to echo between his cell walls. “I know you can hear me.”

Another, longer moment of silence. It dragged on and on, until he was certain she wasn’t going to respond. So be it. She was doing herself no favors, but if it took time for her to realize that he would wait. There was nothing else to do, anyway.

How much had changed since they’d last seen each other, and yet nothing at all. He’d nearly leveled the known Galaxy, obliterated most existing memory of the Jedi and become well-versed in the tenants of ancient Sith left behind by his slain master. In turn he’d been blindsided, humiliated and brought to his knees before the New Republic like some fucking prize shaak shown off for slaughter. Kylo ground his teeth together at the thought, knuckles turning bone-white as his fingers curled into fists. An execution would have been welcome in comparison to how they’d trotted him around in chains for the galaxy to see.

And yet here they were: just her and him, as it always had been and now always would be.

Could be worse.

The prison was gloomy, but not too much different from the Star Destroyers where he’d spent the greater part of his life. It was too quiet, but he was confident that would change with time. The only thing he really hated was the collar. That, and the lack of privacy. The lack of autonomy. There was no service droid in sight and it left him to wonder how his basic needs would be met without the use of his hands or the liberty to leave his cell.

Still, it was her who would suffer here. As much as she claimed to resent the desert, how grateful she was to no longer be sleeping outside in the sandy ruins of an AT-AT, how she only needed her faith and discipline and orthodoxy to survive, Kylo knew better. He’d always known better. She was a creature of sunlight, of warmth, of compassion and attachments. Here her tan skin would fade to pallor, those sinewy limbs would grow weak and the seedlings of loneliness that had always been rooted in her soul would bloom and thrive until she was overtaken and consumed.

It was just a question of how long it would take.

There were other options, though obviously she hadn’t considered them. Yet.

But she would.

Kylo closed his eyes, allowing his mind to numb over. He wasn’t tired per se, but neither was he keen to let his thoughts spin for hours on end. That was how one went insane. 

The hours  _ did _ pass, endlessly. It may have been days for all he knew. Not that it mattered when one was suspended in the wastes of some remote system, or when time was all one had. No sound came from the far end of the corridor, or anywhere else aside from the low drone of the ventilation system. At some point it became maddening.

“Enjoying yourself, master Jedi?” Kylo taunted the darkness, unable to take the silence any longer. Again there was no response, which only embittered his resolve. “Do you have any plans to bring me a rations bar, or have you decided to let me starve?” The thought almost made him smile, albeit a wicked and mirthless one. Maybe she  _ had _ decided to let him starve. He wasn’t particularly hungry—sitting in a prison cell required very little energy—but he  _ was _ starved for conversation. For anything other than  _ this _ .

He stood and crossed to the ‘fresher. She was lucky he was still able to relieve himself with his hands bound, though it was cumbersome and irritating. Not to mention it only made him more aware of the burning rawness of his wrists where the shackles chafed against his skin.

Kylo was standing at the ‘fresher’s entrance, eyeing the ancient, rusted drain when he heard a door open at the end of the hall followed by footsteps. He almost didn’t believe it, that she wasn’t some apparition or prison ghost when she appeared on the other side of the transparisteel wall. Her dark brows were knit together, lips turned down in a scowl and her arms were crossed where she drew her cloak tight to her chest. 

“Comfortable? You look cold.” The provocation rolled off his tongue without thought. He stalked towards her, stopping only when his nose was nearly pressed to the transparisteel. His shackled hands hung limp at his waist as he searched her expression for...anything.

“Yes this place is lovely, isn’t it?” she replied, though her words held little heat. Her expression was empty, forlorn. There was nothing Jedi-like about it.

“You’re making things worse for yourself, like you always do,” he observed. “You crave my company.”

“I don’t,” she replied.

“You do. Admit it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Everything has changed,” she said. Her eyes seemed to linger on his, and he saw something like fear there—distaste. She was unsettled by their hue.

Hot anger seared Kylo’s veins as his eyes shifted between hers. Familiar hazel. “Nothing’s changed, Jedi.” He looked her up and down, reveling in the way her shoulders folded inward with self-consciousness. “The war hasn’t touched you. Somehow, you’re exactly the same.”

Her jaw clenched before she said, “Well I hardly recognize you.”

A sound escaped his throat at that, though not quite a laugh. “Another lie.” 

She was so desperate to deny her attraction to him, he could tell—especially now. But even if it wasn’t apparent to her, it was to him in the way her cheeks flushed under his gaze, in how she hadn’t taken her eyes off him since she’d arrived and in how her feet seemed to subconsciously carry her closer and closer to the transparisteel between them. Smirking, he took a few steps back and watched the absence of his nearness flicker across her face.

“I’ve brought you a rations bar,” she said after a moment. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you have it.”

Kylo shrugged. “The choice is yours, master Jedi. You are the authority here.”

Rey’s scowl deepened. “Then I won’t.”

He loved the way she looked when she was frustrated. How desperately he wanted to pull her hair out of that bun, to rip those Jedi robes off her and throw them to the floor, never to be worn again. He let her words fester for a moment before he said, “Alright.”

She shot him a lingering, poisonous look before backing away and disappearing into the darkness of the corridor. Kylo watched her go, resentful of the ache that echoed in his chest with each of her dissipating steps. An exasperated sound escaped his lips before he could stop himself—something between a sigh and a groan. Then it was quiet, and he was deafened by silence once more.

The quiet made the darkness thicker. Shadows hung heavily outside his cell, creating false corners. Even when he wasn’t focused on it, the darkness was present. The corridor leading away from the maximum security cells was blanketed in yawning night. He resolutely ignored it.

Kylo sprawled out on the bench, his long legs dangling over the end of it. Trying to ignore the sensation of crawling just beneath his skin and the restlessness in his limbs, Kylo stared at the ceiling of the cell. The tiles were cracked and rusted, with milky-looking condensation dripping from a vent in the top right corner of the room. His top lip curled back in disgust. They hadn’t even granted him the courtesy of a cot. He’d rather sleep on the floor than this rotting piece of garbage. 

Yes, lovely. 

Well, what did  _ her _ cell look like? He knew she was being facetious when she’d made the comment about their  _ accommodations _ , but surely they’d given her something a little nicer than  _ this _ . He hadn’t really bothered to look. Maybe she was curled up on a bench just like this one, eyes closed and hands tucked under her head with those long, dark lashes dusting her cheeks.

Kylo grit his teeth together, determined to ignore the stiffness that started to grow between his legs at the thought if only because he couldn’t really do anything about it. In a swift movement he stood, jumping to his feet to pace around the confinement. He could almost taste it—the Force. It was like a word forgotten, lingering on the tip of his tongue. The collar was getting heavier and heavier.

And the hours were getting longer.

Kylo swore under his breath, stopping to lean his forehead against the transparisteel wall and closed his eyes. The transparisteel was cool, his hot breath leaving a circle of fog on its surface. Now he  _ was _ hungry, but he’d rather starve than beg the righteous little Jedi to come and feed him. He didn’t want to give her the impression of needing her.

So this was how it was going to be. An execution would have been more pleasant.

Steps in the hallway stirred him from his reverie before he could follow that thought any further. Kylo blinked his eyes open just as Rey appeared on the other side of the transparisteel. She almost looked confused, but then that passed into reproachful determination.

“You haven’t eaten,” she said, voice flat.

Kylo stared at her for a long moment, reveling in how she shifted her weight under his gaze. “No, I haven’t.”

“You have to. Or you’ll die.” There was no emotion, no  _ sympathy _ in her words—just cold, hard fact.

“Wouldn’t that be a windfall, master Jedi? I’ll die here one way or another. The sooner it happens, the sooner you can run back to your friends and move on with your brave, noble life,” Kylo sneered. He watched the thought churn in her head, watched her contemplate it—really, truly contemplate it, try as she might to hide it—and his sneer grew into a smirk. “You’re no Jedi,” he whispered.

Her scowl deepened. A long moment passed before she spoke. Finally she said, “The New Republic wants you alive.”

“Ah yes, the New Republic,” Kylo said quietly. She was so close he could almost count the freckles that littered the bridge of her nose. And that mouth, lips all pressed together in a pout— 

Rey didn’t take her eyes off him as she pulled a rations bar from her cloak and unwrapped it. “Step back,” she instructed as she unlatched the meal slot in the durasteel door. 

Kylo raised a brow, that smirk still playing across his lips as he watched her place the rations bar in the meal tray. “You’re welcome to come in,” he said. 

“I’m afraid not,” she snapped, slamming the meal slot shut.

“Wouldn’t want to jeopardize your safety,” Kylo mocked in return, baring his collared throat and flashing his shackles at her—though there was something undeniable about how her words stung him, digging into him like a needle. He loathed himself for feeling it. It wasn’t like he should’ve expected anything else. Kylo eyed the rations bar, which looked about as appetizing as a pile of bantha shit and returned to the bench. It was incredibly difficult to maintain a straight, indifferent expression when he saw the outrage that appeared on her face.

Then she softened—just a bit. “I’m not worried about that.”

Kylo tilted his head, staring hard at her where she stood beyond the transparisteel wall. “Then what?”

Her throat bobbed. She might have even been trembling. “Giving you too much power,” she said after a heavy pause. The words seemed to take great effort to say, and they rang with honesty. Possibly the first instance of it since they’d arrived.

Kylo’s mouth twisted into a cruel, hard frown.  _ Him _ , having too much power. Him, who sat on this decrepit old bench in a prison cell comprised of durasteel, suspended and forgotten in the mass shadow of some Force-forsaken moon. She wasn’t the one whose hands were bound, the one who was weakening under the weight of this terrible, sadistic device. Force-suppressing collars had never been properly tested or vetted, but Kylo doubted that cutting one off from the very power which sustained life as a whole would result in anything  _ healthy _ . They were rudimentary torture devices and nothing better, though of course the Jedi would have never admitted to that. She had no idea what she was dealing with. It was almost comical how naive she was.

“You think that’s funny?” she asked when he didn’t answer.

Kylo’s voice turned cold, cutting. “Not at all,” he said, turning his attention from her to stare at the blank wall in front of him.

“Please. Eat it.”

Kylo didn’t answer. He didn’t so much as look her way. If this was how she was going to be—still adhering to her  _ morals _ , her  _ principles _ —he had no interest in engaging with her.  _ The world is not as black and white as you think, master Jedi _ , he scathed to himself. There was no room for moral high ground or objectivity here in this place, where they would both rot and wither in the name of justice.

The New Republic’s justice.

A flash of movement and the creak of a hinge drew him from his thoughts. Rey stood in the entry of his cell. One hand was on her lightsaber. She grabbed the ration bar with the other. “You’re going to live out your sentence as mandated,” she said, taking a cautious step towards him. “I won’t let you starve yourself. That’s not what the Grand Jury intended for you.”

Well she was determined, he had to give her that. She had that rare sort of resilience that’d manifested in Skywalker as well, the kind Kylo supposed came with having been raised by the desert. It’d serve her well in a place like this, even if nothing else would.

Kylo slanted his eyes at her, statuesque as she moved closer step by step. She was afraid of him. It was apparent in how she moved on the balls of her feet, fingers flexing around her ‘saber hilt like she might need to draw it with her next breath. He resented that. There’d been a time when she wasn’t; back then she’d approached him in earnest rather than on orders, and proximity to him hadn’t made her cautious or nervous. Kylo bit down hard on his cheek and after a moment of long, sharp pain the taste of iron filled his mouth.

She stopped a stride or two away from him, lightsaber unignited but pointed towards his head. “Try anything and I’ll do it.” Then she lifted her other hand, offering the rations bar to him. “You need to eat.”

He ignored the supplement, staring instead at the lightsaber’s hilt and briefly wondering what color her blade was. The hilt was foreign; perhaps she’d crafted her own, unable to mend the broken halves of the ‘saber that’d been his grandfather’s. “How did you learn to make that? Did Skywalker have time to teach you before martyring himself for the cause?” He hoped the jeer would distract her, allowing his other question to go unnoticed:  _ Are there more of you? _

“It’s not your business. Take it.” She brandished the rations bar in his face and he leaned away.

“Don’t you have anything else?” he asked with a scowl.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she snapped, and he got the sense he’d struck a nerve. Of course. She’d begged for food all her life.

“I didn’t beg.” He scrutinized her, tongue curling around each syllable for emphasis. She seemed to shrink away from him, dropping the hand that held the supplement. Kylo’s gaze flickered to hers and a cruel, sadistic thought occurred to him. “Well you’ll have to help me,” he said smugly.

Rey’s face paled. “What?”

“You know what I mean,” he said. He knew she did.

“You’re pathetic. A fraction of who you used to be.” Cold fury stonied her gaze as she drew herself up to her full height, looming over him and holding the rations bar to his mouth. “Eat it before I change my mind.”

Kylo opted to ignore her slight, instead leaning in to bite off the end of the meal bar. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time, chewing slow and deliberately out of spite. It didn’t taste like much; they never did, and normally he inhaled them in two or three bites but this time he drew it out. If she was going to play this way all high and mighty, he’d make sure it was miserable for her.

Up close he could see her fingers tremble as she fed it to him while his own hands sat numb in his lap. As if the collar couldn’t be any worse, it made swallowing difficult too. It was too tight, too heavy around his throat. He wanted it  _ off _ , and she was the only one who had the power to remove it. He’d have to get smarter about their interactions. When he was done he leaned back to look at her, still picking her apart with his unblinking gaze. Already he could see the cracks and chips in her armor, the effort it took not to cross her arms over her chest or look away from him. Always so defiant.

She backed away, turning to leave without breaking eye contact. Her fingers closed around the handle of his cell door and she pulled it open. The darkness outside his cell still pressed against his awareness, but it wasn’t the same with her there. The stillness felt...less. But the shadows raised the hair on the back of his neck as she moved towards them.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” Kylo called as she went. He almost cringed at how the words came out—a little too desperate and invested.

She paused and looked at him, face hard. “Yes it does,” she said after a beat, though she didn’t sound particularly convinced.

“No one is watching us. No one is coming back for you,” he replied as she left the room to disappear into the dark corridor once more. He wasn’t sure she could hear him when he added, “It’s just us now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all of your comments! They're very inspiring and motivating. You can follow us on Tumblr at [holocroning](http://holocroning.tumblr.com/)/[dustoftheancients](http://dustoftheancients.tumblr.com/).


End file.
